


So I Think I'll Be Six

by FyrMaiden



Category: Glee
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M, Precocious kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4390706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyrMaiden/pseuds/FyrMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine and Kurt's infant daughter is a diva, as you'd expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So I Think I'll Be Six

**Author's Note:**

> I recall getting some flack for this one when it was initially posted, because it seemed like their daughter preferred Blaine to Kurt. That wasn't the intention with this little thing I threw together in response to the conversation on my dash. Anyone who has dealt with small humans has experienced the way their favourites change on a whim... 
> 
> Title lifted from 'Now We Are Six' by AA Milne.

There are days when Blaine really wishes they could go back a couple of years, to when their daughter was an actual baby and couldn’t actually speak, because he thinks she’s going to drive him mad and Kurt is less than no help, sitting the other side of the table with his glasses perched on his nose, smirking at the screen of his laptop as Blaine’s last nerve starts to slowly unravel. “Daddy,” she says, tugging on Blaine’s sleeve. “Daddy,” two seconds later, when he hasn’t responded. “Daddy!” kneeling precariously on the edge of the chair as it slides backwards across the laminate. “Dadddddy!”

“Pumpkin,” he responds, pinching the bridge of his nose and wondering if Valium is an option, or time travel, maybe.

“Can I play on your iPad?” she says. “Can we watch… watch a animals on YouTube? Have you - where are my games?”

“The iPad is charging,” Blaine says slowly, cautiously. She cants her head and pouts, and Blaine can almost hear the wail ramping up and dissembles, “But maybe we can find something on Daddy’s computer instead? Or maybe you want lunch? Breakfast? You didn’t eat breakfast.”

“Wanna play on a ‘puter,” she declares, and smiles beatifically. Blaine pats her hair.

“Good girl.”

He’s on his way back from his and Kurt’s room with his laptop when she comes to find him. “Wanna drink,” she says, and then, almost as an afterthought, “Now.”

“What’s the magic word, Kira?”

She sighs and huffs and spins on her heel. “Doesn’t matter.”

Blaine watches her tiny retreating form, stares at the early morning tangle of her hair, and thinks he really needs to try and get a brush through it, except he remembers how that felt when he was little and he knows how she reacts, and it’s Saturday… and then he tells himself again, she’s four years old, she is not the boss here.

Twenty minutes later, he has a screaming four year old whose face is bright red and who is rubbing her eyes, trying almost desperately to generate tears, and he feels like the worst parent in the world. Tomorrow, this is Kurt’s job.

*

“Kira, can you hold Papa’s hand, please?” Kurt says. She shakes her head and crosses her arms across her tiny chest.

“Wanna hold Daddy’s hand,” she replies. It’s January. The streets outside are busy. Her beret is red and looks adorable perched atop her head, red cape coat perfect for the season. She thrusts her lower lip out and Kurt stares at the ceiling and counts backwards from ten.

“Daddy’s not here,” he says. “We’re going to meet Daddy. I need you to hold my hand until we get there.”

It happens in slow motion and Kurt can’t stop it. She turns away from him and her spine goes rigid and he hears the sharp intake of her breath as her arms come up across her chest. She doesn’t scream or cry. She just holds her breath at him. “Kira,” he says, and she throws her chin up defiantly. Kurt attempts to uncurl one of her hands, but her strength is born of sheer stubborn will power and he gives up. “Kira, hold Papa’s hand, please, and we’ll get pretzels in the park.” She doesn’t change her stance, but he sees her eyes open and she looks at him out the corner of one of them.

“Want hotdogs,” she says. Kurt, right now, will attempt to lasso the sun for her, if she’ll just take his hand. They’ve got to make a twenty minute journey and they’re down to fifteen minutes already. He texts Blaine even as he’s bargaining with their daughter. They’re going to be late. They’re always late.

*

They don’t drive often. There’s no need in the city. They do hire a car when they head back to Ohio, though. Kira sits in her booster seat and kicks the back of Blaine’s chair over and over again. He turns to face her, peering over his shoulder. “Stop it,” he says. She stops for a moment and turns on her most angelic smile. Blaine sighs and closes his eyes and looks at Kurt, who shrugs his shoulders. “She’s your daughter,” he says, and turns on his own most angelic smile. Blaine rolls his eyes.

“Funny how that works,” he mutters, and drops his chin to his chest when her feet find the back of his seat again.

*

Her fifth birthday happens in early July. They invite everyone they know. Everything is fine for the bulk of the afternoon, and then the cake happens. She doesn’t like the candles. She doesn’t like the colour much either, glaring at the frosting through narrowed eyes. They’d got over the fit about the fact her dress wasn’t clean this morning (Kurt had washed it and risked tumble drying it and she’s a vision in bright sunshine yellow with matching yellow ribbons in her hair). They’d got past the fact that Auntie Rachel would be a little later than expected. They’d got past the fact she wasn’t allowed to open her presents until her party later with minimal fuss and a little bribery.

But the frosting is supposed to be purple, and it’s more sort of lavender, and it’s all wrong. It’s a disaster. Blaine sees her lip tremble and looks around them quickly, and Kurt crouches in front of her and shakes his head desperately, but it’s too late. Her eyes are brimming and her fists are bunched and she throws her head back and screams. Kurt catches her shoulders, attempts to reason with her, and Blaine looks at their assorted friends and mouths that it’s fine, everything is fine.

It is fine. He can make this fine by sheer force of will.

Except those are real tears, and, as far as she’s concerned, the day is really ruined, and Kurt looks as helpless as he feels, and people are staring and this is awful. “Hey, sweetie,” he says, crouching next to her and stroking her hair. “Hey, it still tastes the same, yeah? It’s still the cake you wanted inside.” She’s apoplectic in her tears, though, deaf to everything around her, and Blaine strokes her hair uselessly.

In the end, Kurt gathers her into his arms and takes her indoors, leaves Blaine outside to cut cake and make small talk with their guests. It’s only when Rachel arrives with balloons and a box filled with Lego bricks that she stops her breathless sobbing.

When Blaine comes to find them, Kira is sitting on the floor building a tower with two other children. He hands Kurt a slice of cake and tells him to eat. “Because cake is always the cure?” Kurt asks, and Blaine smiles and kisses his cheek.

“Because cake is a proven cure for everything,” he agrees.

*

“Wanna read Pinocchio,” she says, yawning. Blaine nods and says she can have anything she wants if she’ll put her pajamas on. She says she’s not tired yet and needs to pee. Blaine nods his head and says, “You’ve already been to the bathroom, sweetie. Let’s put your strawberry pajamas on, hey?” She pouts and yawns and helps him to take her clothes off, and then examines her pajama top in excruciating detail before pointing at the pattern.

“It’s a strawberry!” she declares and giggles, and Blaine smiles and takes it off of her, pulls it over her head and lets her do the arms.

“It is,” he agrees, “Now put the bottoms on.”

He gets their book as she gets into bed, finds her panda and then her rabbit and then turns all the other bears around because she doesn’t like their faces tonight. She falls asleep before Blaine has finished the third page, eyes slipping closed quietly. He sits on the edge of her bed for a few more minutes and strokes her hair gently back from her face. Kurt peers in at them when Blaine doesn’t emerge, and smiles at him quietly.

“Hey,” he whispers. “She okay?”

“Perfect,” Blaine replies, and leans down to kiss her forehead. “She’s perfect.” Kurt nods and kisses the top of Blaine’s head, watching both of them.

She is, he agrees, perfect


End file.
